


And You Are Floating Through Space (We Both Are)

by RodimusPrime036



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: And we LOVE that for him, Angst, Calus b like "Hold Like Hamburger", Calus likes to hold tho so it's okay, Dionysus goes "Oh Fuck" and that's okay, Dionysus goes from a stray to a pampered housecat, Dionysus when he gets royal wine: "CHUG CHUG CHUG" (then be sick), He also wants to be held, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Slowburn?, Minor character death (of a major character), growing relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:07:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29308518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RodimusPrime036/pseuds/RodimusPrime036
Summary: Pre-Guardian Dionysus! (And may lead into Guardian Dion? I dunno yet)
Relationships: Calus/Guardian (Destiny)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

He is lost in the abyss of space. There is no sound aside from his own furious howling, the echo of his wailing reverberating against his steel prison, the heavy metallic clangs of his fists making contact with the walls. (Maybe threatening to expose Clovis was a bad idea, but he really hadn't expected to be tossed into the cosmos in a glorified tuna can.) 

As he gazes out the half-foot wide window, the stars blink lazily back. He screams louder, and they don't reply. 

  
  
  
  
  


He is sleeping more than he should be. It is month three of being in his ship, and the stars are never any closer. The inky black is never any warmer, the white dots dancing out of his path, but they never look any _different._ He slept all of month two, and he wishes he could sleep _now,_ because it is so terribly dark, and terribly cold, and he cannot control this _pod_ \- it wasn't even a _ship,_ really- and he is lost in space. 

He stopped screaming after the third week. He wonders if anyone even knew he was gone. 

  
  


He sleeps through months four and five. At month six, he starts talking to himself. He sings sometimes- child's lullabies and nursery rhymes to fill the oppressive silence, (but that ends when he gets to _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star._ The cruel irony made him laugh for an hour before he wept for a day.) He talks about the stars, about growing up and being an exo. He explores his body and familiarizes himself with everything- (because if he were to reset out here, he can only imagine the terror of waking up alone in a sealed tomb floating in space.) 

He watches the stars, and he talks. And they do not respond, and he sleeps again.

  
  
  


He forgets his name at month eleven. He cries until it hurts, then realizes he doesn't even know why he's crying. 

"Why am I here?" He stares out into the stars. _You know why._

"I don't like talking to you anymore." He responds stiffly. _You're going crazy. I_ **_am_ ** _you. You can't get tired of me._

He doesn't respond, because he _is_ going crazy here, because he is _right._ He loses his only friend. Did he ever have a friend to begin with?

  
  
  
  
  


At month nineteen, he tries to leave his cage. He fumbles along for the door, finds the ridges of the edges and then the handle, lifts- 

It doesn't open. 

He tries again, tugs against the metal, once, twice, then desperation sets in. He is begging- to who, he doesn't know, but he is sobbing as he pleaded for the stars to _open the door-_

The handle breaks with a metallic crunch, and he falls back with the upset of his balance. _No._ He screams now, slams his hands against the smooth metal and howls, and then he is _tired._ He rests his forehead on the wall and sobs- great, gasping sobs that catch in his throat- his throat, that was closing and _choking_ him, and he wheezed until his vision spotted and he slumped against the door, (and he is gone again, shaking like a leaf- _he_ _misses leaves-_ and his vents heave as the only sound among the stars.)

  
  
  


Month twenty-two creeps along slowly. He has gone back to talking to himself again, (because he cannot afford to forget anything else,) and so he talks and scratches designs on the walls. 

"The stars look a little closer today," he notes, and doesn't get any replies. (He hadn't gotten a response since month eleven. He is lonely.) "Maybe I'll hit one." That isn't something to be hopeful about, but it keeps him going. He wants to hit one- wants to feel the _heat,_ because he is so cold it _hurts._ His fingers haven't stopped shaking since he got out here. He is cold, and he is alone. 

He is cold. And he is alone. 

  
  
  
  
  


At month thirty he starts screaming again. Talking doesn't matter now; he shrieks until his chest hurts, hurls insults at curses at the cosmos, slams his frame into walls and howls like a caged beast- he is nameless and alone and _cold,_ he needs _out._ He screeches at the endless black sky, and the stars greedily swallow his cries, until there is nothing left inside him but a worn out shell. 

There is nothing left. 

There is nothing.

  
  
  
  
  


At month thirty nine there is _something._ **_Something_ ** is a great, gaping maw that rolls slowly through the space between stars. It moves slowly, so slow it may not even be moving, maybe made of metal like his own cage, and it is heading straight towards him. It looks like a _predator,_ slinking towards him, massive mouth stretched to swallow him whole- like a shark prowling it's sea among the stars, and he is but a _minnow,_ and it will devour him. 

He wants to be devoured. 

Then, something on the ship _blinks_ at him. A light- a _light?-_ nothing was supposed to penetrate space, but it flicks lazily at him like a tiny eye atop the space-fish. He blinks back, and then- then he is feverishly slamming his hands on the window, crying out to the light as desperation send adrenalin flooding his synthetic veins. 

_"Hey!"_ He cries, and the light blinks slowly. "I'm here!" _I exist, I am lost among the endless stars,_ **_help me._ ** Maybe he was imagining the fish-ship; maybe his mind had finally collapsed and this was its final hope, some desperate pleading for something to find him, but he still begs it to take pity on him, _to find him._

The mouth of the ship drags closer, closer, (he doesn't want to be _eaten,_ not if there was anyone _alive_ on that,) so he shouts louder, smacks his palms on the walls. ( _They can't hear you,_ he knows. He still bangs on the metal until his hands sting.) 

Sudden dizziness takes over, and he falls, tumbles back against the far wall as his little ship rocks and struggles with some unseen force. _No, no!_ He doesn't want to die, he doesn't want to spend thirty nine months locked in a _tuna can_ just to _die-_

His ship stops moving on its side after a long ten minutes. His window is on something _solid,_ he is curled on his side and trembling because he is _stopped,_ he isn't floating through the cosmos anymore-

The side of his ship is pried apart like an eggshell, and there is _light,_ so blinding it hurts, and he covers his eyes and cringes away with a snarl. (His chest and throat hurt, jagged and painful, nearly as bad as the sparkling behind his eyes.)

He doesn't recognize the language being spoken. He squints as he opens his eyes again, slanting them against the harsh light-

-and promptly notes that his saviors aren't human. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dionysus, after being yanked out of space by giant aliens and being put on a massive ship after years of no contact: "cool can I join ur guys' gang"

The people looking down at him are  _ big.  _ He is over six foot, but he feels like a child looking up at them from his huddled ball on the floor. Massive, with broad shoulders and tense frames, three of them- and a small one, thin and short, palms pressed together in front of its midsection as it peered down at him. (It is frightening to look at; one eye in the center of a tall head, it's features nearly looking carved in with odd patterns marking its pink-tinted skin.) It chatters curiously at him, gesturing slightly, and he cringes away from it. 

It slants its eye, sounding near  _ curious  _ as it rumbles to him, makes a few assuring gestures towards him and gently nudges the big ones back a bit. He has some space now, so he hesitantly uncurls and sits up in his little pod. (It is so  _ bright,  _ even if it was dimmer than he expected. Bright and  _ big,  _ he is surrounded in walls so high the ceiling looks distant, that he feels so  _ small.)  _

"I can't understand you," he croaks to the small one, and it startles before tilting its head side to side. He ignores that in favor of standing- of wobbling and clutching at the side of the ship for support, and he is heavy _.  _ (It is wonderful to feel  _ heavy  _ again, to shake as he struggles to stand, to have  _ weight.)  _

"Does this work better?" He startles at the  _ voice,  _ twists to face the smaller one. It blinks back at him, and, as he hesitantly nods, it gives a pleased nod and clasps its hands together again. "Wonderful. I'm sure you must be terribly confused; you may call me  _ Match,  _ and you are on the Leviathan." That felt like a good name for the space-fish-ship,  _ Leviathan,  _ so he nods and Match continues. "Normally, Emperor Calus would greet you, but-" he, (he  _ assumes  _ Match is a 'he,') cuts himself off with a sullen sort of aura around him suddenly, and he does not press on who  _ Calus  _ was in favor of offering a strangled croak of a response. 

It takes a moment to cough into a fist before his words start working again, before his tired voice rumbles to life with a metallic undertone he doesn't like much.

"I don't remember my name," he offers weakly, and Match's head tilts slightly to the right. (He can hear so much here- a distant thrumming, clicks and whirrs, metallic sounds of  _ life,  _ and it is overwhelming and  _ wonderful  _ and awful. He tries to muffle it out in favor of paying attention to his audience.) Match seems cautious as he approaches, as he circles around him like a shark and inspects his beaten frame. 

"Well," he muses softly, "you make a rather sore sight, but we'd best introduce you to the Emperor." (He doesn't want to meet someone known as an  _ emperor. _ He'd probably get ejected back into space.) As though sensing his hesitation, Match offers what he assumes to be an assuring hum and tilts his chin up in an attempted smile. "He is very kind, I assure you." (It is little assurance.) 

  
  
  
  
  


The  _ Leviathan  _ is…  **_massive._ ** It's halls stretch seemingly infinitely, but Match guides him easily along the winding paths. Their company- a small group of, as Match called them,  _ Cabal- _ followed quickly behind them. (They are guarding Match, he notes distantly, cradling guns and looking tense as they stare daggers at the back of his head. He wonders if they'd be the ones to throw him back out the moment this 'Emperor' saw him. He wonders if they'd kill him instead.) 

Match talks as they walk; softly informing him of what Cabal were, facts about the Leviathan and it's looming halls. (He pointedly doesn't speak of anything  _ but  _ directions or Cabal, Dionysus notes, but he is far too eager to  _ hear _ and  _ see  _ and  _ touch,  _ things that  _ weren't  _ the pod he had been torn from, to bother with asking about the mighty ship's history. (There is so  _ much  _ here, so many sounds and scents and  _ talking,  _ the Cabal whispering behind him, Match guiding him, distant voices that thrum off the empty halls-  _ life,  _ and he feels alien amongst the actual aliens, because he is still so cold, and they are  _ alive.  _

He is led along for long enough he feels weak, heavy and exhausted again- (and he does not want to sleep, he just needs a moment to rest,) before they enter a room different from the rest. They have walked  _ down,  _ down into the belly of the ship, until it is dimmer, (his eyes agree with this new brightness,) and they stop before a massive door. There is murmuring beyond, low and growly, and Match stops and holds up a hand in a  _ 'hold'  _ motion. 

"I will inform the Emperor of your arrival," he announces, gives him a gentle, reassuring pat on the shoulder. "He will decide what to do with you- however, I'm sure he won't mind a guest on board. He is terribly kind." (He isn't sure how much he believes that, considering the grumbling Cabal behind him, but he bites his metaphorical tongue and nods softly.) Match turns then, knocks loudly against the heavy metal and awaits a rumbling call before he nudges it open just a crack and slips inside. 

He doesn't want to be alone with the Cabal out here. He doesn't think they care much for him. 

  
  
  


It doesn't take long before Match returns, bustling through the door and casting a warm look to the exo. (It was odd, not seeing himself as human anymore. He tries not to think about it too much.) 

"Alright-" he stops a moment, looking momentarily embarrassed before continuing, "ah, I forgot you didn't have a name. Emperor Calus will see you now." (And maybe he is a little frightened, because Match holds a hand out in a soothing gesture and tilts his head softly to the side.) "I'm sure you've gone through a lot," he murmurs, "but Emperor Calus really  _ is _ terribly kind. And you've caught him in a good mood- I'm sure you'll be fine." 

He shakes the weary dizziness out of his head and nods hesitantly. If he wanted to avoid the endless abyss of screaming silence, this would have to be done. 

  
  
  
  
  


Emperor Calus is bigger than he expected. Maybe that shouldn't be a surprise, actually, because the Leviathan is bigger than the biggest thing he's ever heard of, but he is still amazed. The Cabal also looked  _ sad,  _ a deep melancholy about him, despite the way he lounges upon a golden… throne, perhaps? More like a massive couch- and grinned down at him. 

"Ah," he says, (and he doesn't know whether to stand or bow, so he settles for a tilt at his hips that makes the world sway in a way that makes him feel sick.) Emperor Calus laughs, but the sound is hollow and distant. "You are our little traveler, are you?" He blinks once, nods slowly, and the Emperor's grin slants slightly. "Shy, are we?" He muses, and he hesitates for a moment. 

"I'm sorry-"  _ sir? Your highness?  _ It doesn't matter, because Emperor Calus seems amused again, waving a hand dismissively. 

"And do you have a name?"

"I don't remember. I'm sorry." (He doesn't want to go back to space. He doesn't want to be alone among the howling, silent void.) 

"You apologize a lot for things so little, don't you?" 

"I would rather not accidentally offend the one so graciously allowing me to be in their presence." (That seemed good, because Emperor Calus' grin turns more genuine and he leaned forward slightly in his seat.) 

"Ah, you certainly know the way to an Emperor's heart, don't you, little traveler?" He nods, a hesitant jerk of his chin, and Emperor Calus leans back again with an amused sort of huff. He can feel the weight of the Cabal's stare, looking him over- (whatever inspection, he hoped he wouldn't fail)- and he straightens his posture slightly, squaring his shoulders. He feels dizzy still, the sounds of  _ shipvoices _ **_life_ ** so loud, so he gives the Emperor a quick once over as well.

Despite his apparent amusement, he still seems  _ distant,  _ and he wonders briefly if that has to do with the ship's past. Aside from that, though, the Cabal was  _ massive,  _ looming above all else in the room. He has black eyes-  _ (he looks tired)-  _ and wears rich purples and golds, his mouth exposing sharper teeth and his frame adorned in jewels and shining stones. He certainly fit the idea of an Emperor, though this hardly  _ looked  _ like an empire. He doesn't say that, and instead startles when Emperor Calus gives a loud, rumbling laugh and speaks to Match in that language he doesn't recognize. Match looks over to  _ him,  _ gives a muffled, amused little snort and chirps softly back to the Emperor before turning back to him and dipping his head slightly. 

"Match," the large Cabal announced, making a sweeping gesture with one hand. (His other cradled a goblet the size of a small pool, a rich, purple liquid sloshing up over the edge as he gestures. He is suddenly aware that  _ hunger,  _ unfamiliar and startling, gnaws in his stomach. He knows he can't actually be hungry. It doesn't make the sudden awareness any less real.) "Match will take you to get settled, and more…" he eyes him again,  _ "presentable. _ " His gaze turns back to Match. "Get him cleaned up, something to eat and new clothing," he continues in the language that he doesn't understand, and so he tunes it out in favor of taking in the room. There are a few of the smaller Cabal standing guard- (smaller than  _ Emperor Calus _ , still massive compared to  _ him, _ ) and gold trinkets across the floor in heaps along the walls. 

He must have looked lost, because Match rested a palm on the small of his back and tilted his head slightly towards the door. Emperor Calus is watching them lazily, silent and nearly uninterested, but he can  _ feel  _ the stare. He tilts into another dizzying bow, straightening blinking slowly to clear the fuzz in his vision. 

"Thank you," he offers softly, before following Match out the door. 

He doesn't know if he gets a response, because the massive door closes with a heavy click, and they are back in the halls. 


End file.
